Chapter 35 For the stars I want most...
Wen Mu subconsciously raised his head. In the dark night sky, only a few scattered stars were faintly visible among the clouds.
"What are you looking at?" she asked.
The roar of an engine came from the other end of the phone. Song Xingran seemed to be running somewhere, breathing a little quickly: "Wait a little longer."
Wen Mu pressed her phone to her ear and gathered her shawl between her hands. The early winter night breeze, damp and chilly, seeped into her collar, but she stubbornly stood on the balcony, unmoving. The lights of the cruise ship on the distant river reflected in her glasses like a flowing galaxy.
"three."
"two."
"one."
"Bang!"
The first firework exploded in the night sky. A cascade of golden light cascaded down, culminating in a shape resembling Saturn—clearly visible rings and a few small moons surrounding it.
The second firework followed, a blue Mars with a long comet tail; the third, a red-spotted Jupiter, slowly spinning in the night sky. Each firework was a precise replica of the planetary image in her research notebook, even down to the exact pattern of the atmosphere.
"This is……"
Her voice was trembling.
"It's specially made for you."
There was a smile in Song Xingran's voice.
"Happy birthday, Teacher Wen."
The fourth firework launched into the sky. It was an exoplanet with icy rings, the subject of her doctoral dissertation. The firework lingered at its zenith for an unusually long time, as if a planet were actually floating in the Ningchuan night sky.
The whole city seemed to have quieted down.
Wen Mu heard his own violent heartbeat and felt the burning sensation of blood rushing to his ears.
She had never seen fireworks like this before—not the cliché heart shape, not simple colorful dots of light, but the starry sea of her entire academic career moved to the sky.
The final set of fireworks launched simultaneously, bursting into a nebula at an altitude of five hundred meters. Silvery-white specks of light drifted slowly down like dust, then erupted into tiny golden sparks the moment they touched the clouds, like a miniature supernova.
Wen Mu tilted his head back until his neck felt sore, until the last speck of light disappeared into the night.
"Do you like it?"
The man's voice on the other end of the phone suddenly became very soft.
Wen Mu opened his mouth, but found his throat was choked.
She cleared her throat and managed a "hmm".
"I'm sorry I couldn't come back to celebrate your birthday with you."
The shouts of the team members could be heard in the background, and Song Xingran seemed to have walked to a relatively quiet place.
Wen Mu listened to his hoarse voice and imagined the dark circles under his eyes.
She remembered a report she had read some time ago, which said that F1 drivers had to start adjusting their condition 48 hours before the race, and Song Xingran should be recuperating in the lounge at this moment, instead of standing in a corner calling her.
"It's okay." Wen Mu heard himself say.
"It's just a birthday. Actually, it's not that important."
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“It’s very important to me.”
"Wen Mu, this is your first birthday as my wife."
“It’s very important to me.”
The night wind blew away the scattered hair on his temples. Wen Mu looked at the river in the distance, which had returned to darkness, and felt an unfamiliar soreness in his chest.
Thirty-two minutes ago, she was still convincing herself that she didn't care; twenty-two minutes ago, she was staring at the screen of her mobile phone and calculating the time difference; and now, standing at the beginning of her twenty-nine years, she suddenly realized that she had actually been waiting for this call.
"The fireworks designer is an astronomy enthusiast. I showed him all the illustrations for your thesis." He continued, speaking more slowly than usual, as if carefully considering each word. "The exoplanet in the third firework is the one you discovered last year, right? It has an orbital period of 317 days, and the surface temperature—"
"297 Kelvin." Wen Mu replied subconsciously, "You know this."
Song Xingran chuckled softly, and Wen Mu could almost imagine his expression at the moment. The corner of his mouth curled up slightly, his left eyebrow raised, revealing the smug look of someone who had been underestimated.
"Teacher Wen, your husband's memory is certified by the FIA." His voice suddenly moved closer to the microphone, carrying the warmth of his breath. "The braking points at every corner of the track, the opponent's pit stop strategy for every race, and..."
"what else?"
"And everything you've ever said." Song Xingran's tone suddenly softened. "For example, you like soft-boiled eggs but hate runny yolks, you unconsciously bite the pen cap when organizing data, you think kissing under the stars is romantic but you've never been too embarrassed to say it..."
Wen Mu's fingertips trembled slightly. These trivial details were like a key, gently turning a lock on her heart.
The glass door of the balcony reflected her image. The upward curve of her mouth and the twinkle in her eyes were all unfamiliar to her.
"You know," Song Xingran continued, her voice softer than she had ever heard before, "When I first saw you, I thought you were like a star in the sky."
Wen Mu opened his eyes slightly.
"It's not the kind of stars that are out of reach," he explained softly, "but the kind that shine quietly in the darkness. You don't need others to see them, but once you see them, you can never forget them."
She recalled those late nights in the laboratory when she was alone in front of the computer screen processing data, and the stars outside the window silently accompanied her.
"Song Xingran."
She whispered his name but didn't know what to say next.
"I was thinking before today's game," he said, a smile in his voice, "If you win, this will be your birthday present; if you lose, just consider it a consolation prize."
Wen Mu couldn't help but laugh: "How can it be calculated like this?"
"That's it for me," Song Xingran's voice came closer, as if he was holding the phone closer.
“Before, my efforts were to prove myself.”
"Now, there's another you."
Like a small stone thrown into the warm and calm lake of heart, it stirs up ripples.
She looked at the night sky which had already darkened completely, and suddenly wanted to see the expression on his face at that moment.
"The race is about to start," Song Xingran said, the roar of an engine starting up in the background. "When I come back, I'll celebrate your birthday again, okay?"
Wen Mu hummed softly, and suddenly remembered something: "Song Xingran."
"What's wrong?"
"Be careful." She paused, "I, I will watch the live broadcast."
Song Xingran's chuckle came from the other end of the phone, warm and happy: "Yes, my dear wife."
"Go." Wen Mu said softly.
She looked at the lights swaying on the river in the distance, and suddenly she didn't want to maintain that calm and composed appearance anymore.
"I'm waiting for you."
There was a rustling sound of clothing from the other end of the line, as if the man had suddenly gripped the phone tightly: "Say it again."
"I'll wait for you to come back."
"husband."
There was a muffled sound from the other end of the line, followed by a man's cry of pain.
Wen Mu couldn't help laughing: "Where did you hit?"
He muttered, "The locker door in the dressing room."
Wen Mu could imagine him rubbing his forehead, his black hair sticking up in a mess, like a large, angry dog.
It's silly, but also, cute.
"Song! It's about to begin!" Alex's voice came closer and closer in the background.
"I understand." Song Xingran responded impatiently, then lowered his voice and said to Wen Mu, "I'm going to hang up."
"Um."
"Wenmu."
"What's wrong?"
"I miss you."
Something sank straight into her heart.
Wen Mu held the phone tightly, and suddenly wished he could cross the radio waves and touch the person four thousand kilometers away.
"Song Xingran." She took a deep breath, "Win this game."
"As you command, my dear wife." The man's voice became bright again, with a familiar flourish. "Wait for my championship as your birthday present."
The call end prompt sounded, but Wen Mu still kept holding the phone.
The night sky was completely silent, with only the lights of the distant office buildings twinkling like stars. She touched her cheek and felt a warmth.
Wen Mu turned on the TV and tuned to the sports channel.
On the live broadcast, the teams were making final preparations. She immediately spotted Song Xingran's No. 5 car, its silver and black paint gleaming under the lights. The camera cut to the cockpit, where a man was adjusting his helmet.
As if sensing something, he suddenly looked up at the camera, a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, and then he drew a heart on his chest with his fingers.
At that moment, Wen Mu didn't know where the confidence came from. She felt that this action was for her.
The commentator's voice came over: "It seems that Song is in very good shape today. He just made a heart shape to the camera. I wonder who it was for?"
"Who else could he give it to?" another commentator laughed. "It must be his wife."
Wen Mu's face flushed slightly. She huddled on the sofa, hugging her knees, staring intently at the screen.
Five red lights lit up in sequence and then went out simultaneously, and twenty cars rushed out of the starting line like arrows from a bow. Car No. 5 completed the overtaking at the first corner, jumping from fifth to third place.
Wen Mu unconsciously clenched the pillow, his heartbeat accelerating with the roar of the engine.
"Nice overtake!" the commentator exclaimed excitedly. "Song drove very aggressively today. It seems he's determined to win this championship as a gift for his wife!"
The silver and black racing car sped along the track, every turn was astonishingly precise, and every overtaking was clean and neat.
By the 30th lap, Song Xingran was firmly in first place. On the final lap, he crossed the finish line with an absolute advantage, the black and white checkered flag waved, and the audience stood up and cheered.
The camera focused on Song Xingran emerging from his race car. He removed his helmet, his sweat-soaked black hair casually pulled back. He took the national flag from the staff and draped it over his shoulders, then spoke to the camera.
Although there was no sound, Wen Mu could clearly read his lip shape:
"Happy birthday, wife."
Something was melting quietly.
The first day of my 29th birthday seemed different from what I had imagined.
*
Winter dusk arrives early, the sky already tinged with a layer of orange-pink, a gentle hue like a watercolor smudge. Wen Mu stood at the lab table, slowly packing up the data logbook, his fingertips gently smoothing the wrinkles at the edges of the paper.
"Amu, will your young master come back tomorrow?" Yu Mo leaned on the table, turning a pen in her hand, and asked with a smile.
Wen Mu lowered his eyes, raised the corners of his lips slightly, and nodded: "Yes. Tomorrow morning."
"That's it—" Yu Mo sighed exaggeratedly, deliberately dragging out the tone, "Tomorrow I'll have to do the work of two people alone again."
Wen Mu chuckled, put the last piece of information into his bag, and looked up at her: "Thank you for your hard work, Momo."
Yu Mo raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes: "To be able to make you abandon your research time and time again, this Third Young Master Song is indeed not simple."
Wen Mu adjusted the cuffs of his coat, his tone calm, as if stating a perfectly ordinary fact: "It's not that difficult at all. It's just what a wife should do."
"Ha." Yu Mo laughed and poked her shoulder. "Do you believe what you said?"
Wen Mu raised his eyes: "I believe it."
The two looked at each other for a second and laughed at the same time. Yu Mo took her arm and rubbed her shoulder affectionately: "Let's go, I'm so hungry. Do you want to eat Japanese food or hot pot tonight?"
Wen Mu was pulled out by her and turned off the lights in the laboratory.
The light from the setting sun streamed in through the glass windows in the corridor, stretching the shadows of the two people very long.
Wen Mu wore a khaki wool coat today, with a beige turtleneck sweater underneath, which made her skin look as white as snow. Her long black hair fell on her shoulders, with slightly curled ends. She exuded a calm and gentle beauty.
Yu Mo was still nagging about the choice of dinner, and Wen Mu just listened, occasionally responding with a faint smile on his lips.
"Amu!" Yu Mo suddenly shook her arm, her voice lowered, but she couldn't hide her excitement, "Look! Isn't that your young master?!"
Wen Mu was startled and subconsciously followed her gaze.
Outside the school gate, an orange Koenigsegg was parked quietly on the side of the road, its body glowing with a metallic luster in the evening light.
A tall figure leaned lazily against the car door, holding a large bouquet of white baby's breath in his hand. The bouquet was loose and romantic, like a handful of broken stars.
It’s Song Xingran.
The man wore a short black cotton-padded jacket with a dark grey hooded sweatshirt underneath. The collar was slightly open, revealing a section of his cool white collarbone. He looked both trendy and cool, and standing there was an eye-catching sight.
Wen Mu stood there in a daze, his heart suddenly skipping a beat.
Isn't he arriving tomorrow morning?
Shouldn't he be receiving the award in Abu Dhabi?
But it was clearly him - his black hair was slightly messed up by the wind, the scar on his brow was faintly pink in the sunset, and there was a casual smile at the corner of his lips, and he was looking at her without blinking.
Yu Mo could no longer hold back her laughter, so she secretly let go of her arm, whispered "I'm leaving first", and then ran away quickly, not forgetting to wink at Wen Mu before leaving.
Wen Mu didn't move, but just stood there, looking at him across the narrow school gate.
In the winter evening, the air was slightly chilly, and the white breath she exhaled briefly condensed and dissipated before her eyes. In the distance, only the dry branches of the sycamore tree were left, swaying gently in the wind, and there he stood, as if he had walked out of her dream.
She finally took a step forward.
Song Xingran didn't move, just watched her approach, the smile in his eyes grew deeper and deeper, with a bit of pride and a bit of expectation, like a large dog waiting for praise.
Wen Mu walked out of the school gate and stood across the street, looking at him from a few steps away.
The light from the setting sun fell on the tips of his hair, giving them a golden edge.
The baby's breath in his arms was gently swayed by the wind, as if real stars had fallen into his palm.
She looked at him and suddenly smiled softly.
He took off his glasses, opened his arms, and said in a soft yet firm voice:
"Won't you come hug me?"
The man rushed over almost instantly.
He ran so fast that the wind blew up his clothes, bringing with it a sharp scent of cedar mixed with the delicate fragrance of baby's breath. Before Wen Mu could react, he pulled her into his arms, so strong that she almost stumbled and her forehead hit his shoulder.
His chest was warm, and the sound of his heartbeat was heard through the fabric, fast and heavy. Wen Mu's face pressed against his cotton-padded jacket, and his breath was filled with his scent. The aroma of clean laundry detergent, with a hint of the unique smell of motor oil and rubber at the racetrack.
He hugged her tightly, his arms around her waist, as if he wanted to rub her into his bones and blood. Wen Mu could even feel his knuckles trembling slightly, as if the emotions that had been suppressed for too long had finally found an outlet.
There were students standing around, whispering and laughing faintly.
The tips of Wen Mu's ears felt hot, and the hand that was originally raised to hug him back paused, then slowly lowered itself.
She didn't know how long she was held, and she said sullenly, "I'm suffocating to death."
The man immediately let go of her, cupping her face in his hands and turning her left and right like he was examining a rag doll, his brow furrowed tightly. "What about now? Are you still feeling uncomfortable?"
Wen Mu was dizzy from his shaking and held his wrist: "Stop, stop."
"Oh." He stopped obediently, but still stared at her with a scorching gaze, as if he wanted to stare a hole through her.
Wen Mu took a deep breath, raised his hand to push up his glasses, and his eyes fell on the flowers in his arms: "Aren't you going home?"
Song Xingran seemed to remember something and stuffed the flowers into her arms.
It was a large bouquet of white baby's breath, fluffy and soft, like a cloud. The tiny flowers clustered together, shimmering like pearls in the sunset, and the branches were tied with a dark blue ribbon and tied in an exquisite knot.
Wen Mu lowered his head and took a deep breath. The light fragrance lingered at the tip of his nose, like the starry sky on a summer night.
"Does it look good?" Song Xingran asked.
Wen Mu nodded: "How do you know I like baby's breath?"
He raised his eyebrows and smiled ostentatiously: "I just know it."
Wen Mu held the flowers and turned to walk towards the car. But there was no sound of footsteps behind her. She turned back, her hair gently blowing in the wind, and her eyes curved slightly behind her glasses, like a clear spring.
The evening light fell on her, and the khaki coat made her skin look as white as snow. She held the bouquet of white flowers in her arms, looking cool and gentle.
The man stared at her blankly, his heart seemed to be hit hard by something, it felt sore and swollen, and was about to overflow.
At that moment, the wind stopped and the heartbeat became the only echo.
He heard her say:
"Follow me."
He came to his senses, took two steps to catch up with her, and put his arm around her shoulders. However, he didn't control his strength well, and she staggered and her glasses almost flew off.
"I didn't mean it." He quickly supported her, his tone innocent.
Wen Mu steadied himself, adjusted his glasses, and looked him over carefully. He seemed thinner, his jawline more pronounced, and there was a faint dark spot under his eyes, clearly from not getting enough rest.
She reached out and gently touched his brow with her fingertips: "Go home, I'm hungry."
The man smiled, his eyes sparkling, and turned around to run to open the car door for her, his actions being incredibly attentive.
Wen Mu glanced at him, sighed, and got into the car.
If someone shows you kindness without any reason, he is either a traitor or a thief.
She rubbed her waist and silently prayed that it would be safe tonight.
Song Xingran sat in the driver's seat and started the car.
The engine sound was low and pleasant. Wen Mu looked around. The interior was made of matte black leather, and the center console was shining with a cold blue light. It was low-key and luxurious.
"Change car again?" she asked.
"Yeah." Song Xingran put one hand on the steering wheel and looked at her sideways, "I bought it specially to pick you up."
Wen Mu: "..."
Stupid people with lots of money.
"Have you driven the car I gave you last time?" he asked.
Wen Mu shook his head: "I took Momo for a ride and then parked it in the garage at home."
Song Xingran frowned: "Why not open it?"
"I'm used to taking the bus." She paused, "Besides, that bus is too flashy."
"Is it not okay to be so bold?"
"It's not that it's not possible, it's just not very good."
Song Xingran sneered: "Teacher Wen, I find that you can be really stubborn sometimes."
Wen Mu glanced at him: "Hmm?"
"Let me ask you, don't you like that car?"
"like."
"Did you steal or rob that car?"
"no."
"Then why not?" He said seriously, his eyes fixed straight ahead, the lines of his profile particularly sharp in the twilight. "If you like something, you should show it openly, no matter what others say."
Wen Mu was stunned and turned to look at him.
Song Xingran's values have always been so straightforward and passionate. If he likes something, he likes it; if he hates something, he hates it. He never cares about other people's opinions.
She suddenly remembered his arrogant smile on the podium, how he told the whole world, "My wife came to watch me compete," and how he stubbornly customized the planetary fireworks for her...
He lived so openly and freely, like a fire that never went out.
"Okay, I see." She said softly.
Song Xingran curled his lips and stepped on the accelerator.
As the car drove out of the campus, Wen Mu looked out the window at the rapidly receding scenery and suddenly asked, "Where are we going back to?"
Song Xingran: "Galaxy Bay."
Wen Mu: "Aren't you going to see your parents?"
Song Xingran turned to look at her, his eyes deep, a hint of a sly smile on his lips: "Why do you want to see them? The one I want to see most is——"
He paused, lowering his voice, "It's you."
His heart skipped a beat, and Wen Mu subconsciously turned his head to look out the window.
The next second, her chin was pinched and gently turned back. The man's lips pressed up, warm and soft, rubbing lightly against hers.
His breath brushed against her cheek, carrying a faint scent of mint candy, and the kiss was gentle and restrained.
Wen Mu looked at those beautiful eyes, as if he was sucked in. He quietly stretched out the tip of his tongue and gently licked his lips.
The man's pupils suddenly shrank and his breathing became heavy.
She saw the change in his expression as she wished, and a smile appeared in his eyes: "Master Song, can you hold on until you get home?"
Song Xingran stared at her, his eyes dark, and chuckled softly, "Teacher Wen, can you hold on until tomorrow morning?"
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The author has something to say: The young couple finally live in the same place [burst into tears]
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Difficult to fall into the V, cute rolling around to ask for collection [poor]
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